


Vulnerability

by MisanthropicDragon



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:25:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisanthropicDragon/pseuds/MisanthropicDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Big Boss can be vulnerable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> Finally pulled myself together to write again. Have my first Metal Gear fic even though it's just a real quick stress drabble.

Occasionally, Ocelot would actually stay the night with Snake after sex, rather than slipping off, into the night to do whatever it was he did. It was a rare thing, but Ocelot figured Snake liked it when he did, regardless of how he played it off as no big deal. Truth was, Ocelot couldn’t sleep too well in the night. He was often up late before he finally got to sleep, always restless. Every time he stayed the night with Snake, he’d be awake while the other man slept, snoring softly. 

Snake laid next to him, one arm wrapped tight around the pillow underneath him. Ocelot wanted to trace the scars on his face, on his body. Count them, try to recall where some of them were from. Often he’d think about it, but remind himself quickly that John didn’t sleep deeply and he’d definitely awaken from the touch. It was a shame, really. 

But sometimes, John had nightmares. At first, Ocelot had no idea what to do or how to react to them. But the more it happened, the more he got used to it. So when the nightmares struck and John muttered hoarsely and twitched throughout his body in his sleep, Ocelot would run his fingers through his hair. Each stroke through the short, dark brown hair was gentle and calculated, the perfect repetitive motion. He always hoped that in some way, it’d soothe the man in his dreams. 

Every once in awhile, it’d work. The calming petting and hushed words would sometimes calm him down. Ocelot could’ve sworn he’d seen the cracked lips lift into a slight smile at one point. But when the fear-filled mutters stopped and the quick jerking motions stopped, Snake looked… Peaceful. As peaceful as a man like him could look, at least. 

When Snake would finally awaken in the middle of the night from his nightmare, tears would drip from his dark lashes, landing with soft pattering noises on the pillow below. Ocelot never mentioned the tears, and rarely spoke during these times. If he did talk, he’d whisper gently. “What was it this time?” The nightmares ranged from recurring, to random events real or otherwise. There was no doubt in Ocelot’s mind that the man was reliving some of his worst traumas, and he had no shortage of those.

The reaction was always different, the nightmares were always different, filled with blood, gunshots, and death. Occasionally, John would mumble out a short explanation of his dreams. But other times, he’d shake his head wordlessly, unable or unwilling to say a thing. Sometimes, he didn’t want to acknowledge it. And that was okay, it was okay to not bring it up. In the morning’s they’d ignore it, pretend that the Big Boss himself wasn’t a vulnerable man in his own right, away from prying eyes.

Regardless, explanation or no, Ocelot would lace his fingers with Snake’s own and lift his hand to his lips slowly, done so many times before that it was such a perfect motion. Ocelot’s warm lips would brush along his cold knuckles as faintly as he could, before he’d slide down into the bed again. His fingertips would rest lightly against Snake’s temple, softly caressing to the top of his cheekbone. Ocelot. wouldn’t waste his time with fake promises that it was okay, that it was temporary, because it wasn’t, they both knew that. But he would offer the support, the love, even if it wasn’t much.


End file.
